


Psychopomp

by TexasDreamer01



Category: Space Australians
Genre: Aliens, First Contact, Gen, Humans are space orcs, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Paranormal, Science Fiction, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Space Australians - Freeform, Supernatural - Freeform, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 02:18:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10912308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TexasDreamer01/pseuds/TexasDreamer01
Summary: They were prepared for us, our terrain, our weather, and our wildlife. They never could have predicted the paranormal entities of earth.





	Psychopomp

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-post from [tumblr](http://texasdreamer01.tumblr.com/post/158413541580/they-were-prepared-for-us-our-terrain-our).

The research mission was a disaster. Of course, they had _calculated_  the probability of failure, and their chief statistician had composed a painstaking report theorizing what problems might arise. A planet such as this, teeming with a variety of sentient life that mostly coexisted peacefully (a conclusion formed after a longer observation period than normal, considering the difficulty the crew had in ascertaining the dominant species - eventually, the species with the greatest number of permanent structures won on a randomized gamble), needed the utmost care in their approach.

But no, no no- _this_ managed to exceed the expectations of even their ship’s computer. At first, they had chosen a hardy zone appropriate for their own survival: bountiful access to the main water source, enough radiation of the correct spectrum to ensure sufficient regeneration should one of them become injured, and cool winds. The last had been the suggestion of Raijla, and after a brief scan of the lower-level atmosphere, considered innocent enough that the little luxury was permitted.

It had proven the main obstacle in their mission. While the conditions remained favourable for a few days - and how long they were on this planet! - it deteriorated after that. The cool winds were a precursor to something stronger, the skies darkening with a burgeoning, far off screech that intercepted communication. Unable to hear their teammates' increasingly distressed clicking, all of them resorted to using their personal recording devices to devise a back-up strategy.

Being forced to relay messages to each other via the ship’s system was tedious and frustrating, but the geographical mapping system managed to find an alternate shelter. There, they were forced to finally meet the dominant species of the planet, following the nearest group’s path to a semi-sheltered cave. Uncertain of their hosts’ reactions, they kept to themselves; it didn’t last very long, and with trepidation they established their first tenuous line of contact with the alien species.

Interestingly, very little about the research team concerned the species. One of them spotted the recording devices, repurposed for communication until the storm (hopefully) went down, and made an expression Yuglid assumed was excitement, pulling out a similar device from their own clothing.

After establishing a crude method of visual cues, and the borrowing of the alien’s own device, they managed to connect to the planet’s lower-frequency communication networks. The amount of options were dizzying, and Raijla, in an attempt at apology, sent the connection codes to their ship for a quick analysis and mapping of critical skills and information they would need.

The first ping was a site to learn the local language, along with a brief comment on how many languages this species had and the frequencies of usage overlaid on their holo-map. It took a while, and with the storm showing no signs of abating, they were unsure of precisely how much time had passed. Eventually, Taspor managed to trill out an approximation of some basic phrases - much to the apparent amusement of the locals temporarily quarantined with them, even if it paradoxically lowered whatever remaining psychological barriers some of them had.

 _Predator-prey relationship, though it remains uncertain of which aspect this species was assuming when interacting with us_ , Quilvik tapped out, logging the data.

Though the youngest of the group seemed curious about them - normal for youth, an observation that seemed to hold truth even on this planet - the eldest were the most welcoming. It was the aged pair of mates (Yuglid and Weszdr were in agreement that they had stumbled upon a family, given the hierarchical aspects the aliens were displaying) that made the first move, their brief moment of bonding with the alien that had the similar communications device only smoothing over the last of the interaction troubles. The unintentional play at homogeneity seemed to establish them as pseudo-family; with it came offerings of much-appreciated warmth and food, directed by the leader-mates.

However distressing their circumstances were, it was an excellent opportunity. Taspor was put in charge of translation until the main computer could approximate a program that could work in mostly-real time, something that Weszdr was eagerly scanning what the aliens named “the internet” for viable samples suitable for adding to their computer’s databanks. The one with the comparatively-primitive device, named Amihan, assisted with the same fervour, pointing out the more useful items - their own recorder seemed to be a compatible design to local technology, and with only a little reluctance one of them was relinquished, Weszdr gesturing a short tutorial when necessary.

An easy harmony established itself. By the time it waxed to a sort of familiarity, aided by a rudimentary translation program, the storm had eased back into the cool winds they had originally detected. One of the elders explained that this sort of disturbance was seasonal, the other adding that even now was supposed to be the yearly anger at them ( _humans_ , Yuglid noted, adding the various local translations in case one was preferred) from the gods themselves.

It was a perplexing belief, and their collective skepticism must have showed, for one of the children laughed - a reaction they learned encoded a variety of emotions, and was highly contextual in its tone. The child scrambled up to Taspor and Quilvik, settling in front of the dead vegetation used by the aliens for seating, forelimbs visually, vigorously punctuating the tale.

Gods lived in the sea and skies and earth (Weszdr made a noncommittal click, starting a new query on these omnipotent beings that they had managed to bypass en route to the surface), who protected humans and the other species - insofar as natural enmity could be prevented, Yuglid guessed. They were all-powerful, all-wise, and between the whole of them presided over both the living and the dead. The only problem, the child explained, is that humans, once they acknowledged these sentient forces of nature, grew too proud of their own supposed superiority, and forsake the gods that spent many mortal generations protecting and guiding them.

Rapt, they listened as the humans’ gods retaliated, displaying their fury and claiming many lives as recompense for the slights incurred from the damaged relationship between mortals and deities. In the background, the elder mates nodded along, confirming the intricately-woven history of this world. The recording devices were laid, forgotten and humming away on their assigned duties, nary a click or trill to be heard between the research team.

The conclusion of the retelling was… not unsatisfying. It also put a new perspective on the world they had found themselves in, and Raijla asked the question all of them were thinking - why did the gods stop?

For this, one of the elders answered, bare and calloused feet stretching languorously out on the rough stone. A deal was struck, one that overrode the last. Taspor trilled out confusion; surely if such faith was lost in humans, the gods would not seek to renew contact? The gods had nothing to gain from amiable relations with humans, nor anything to lose from returning the insult that was pride in one’s own existence.

As soon as Taspor finished speaking, the elder who assumed speaking thumped a foot on the ground with a humph. Those were, apparently, the wrong questions.

Story-telling was a gift, and yet once more the quieting storm and humming machines were abandoned in favour of elegant answers. _Belief_ , the elder said, _and the dead_.

A chill settled over the team, and Quilvik had the fleeting thought that it had nothing to do with the weather or any species present. Settling back in their seat, the elder elaborated - without humans investing sheer belief in the gods, they ceased to exist, and with it any protection the dead gained. It was a simple matter of survival, engendered, Yuglid thought, by a mutual parasitism.

The silence, this time without the steady background of a raging storm (unsettling then, and its absence unsettling now, the recent revelations a stark contrast to their limited understanding of the planet), was oddly expectant. Turning to each other, finally able to communicate and _hear_  each other now, the group conversed with each other. Of all their expectations, literal, sentient forces of nature were absolutely not one of them. Weszdr proposed, worried, a new idea about the inhabitants of this planet - that they never truly died, that these… gods were epigenetic factors that mutated anything on the planet into forms their own ship’s sensors couldn’t detect, yet managed to interact with the planet at such a level as to affect entire ecosystems.

They didn’t dare think about who or what these gods truly were, not if natural things such as hubris in sentient species could decimate large swathes of the population in a fell swoop, for the mere sake as rebalancing an admittedly ~~frightening~~ odd relationship.

Coming to a consensus, Taspor bid the human family farewell on the team’s behalf, Quilvik tapping out a quick request to return to their ship. And if they ignored the barely-visible, vaguely humanoid shapes lurking at the edges of their vision as the sun set in the horizon, not a word was made of it.


End file.
